


call me friend (but keep me closer)

by aliveanddrunkonsunlight



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Professors, Childhood Friends, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2019-10-04
Packaged: 2020-11-23 05:30:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20886908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliveanddrunkonsunlight/pseuds/aliveanddrunkonsunlight
Summary: Written for JB Week, Day Five.It is late March, nearly April, and Brienne is spending the last of the Northern winter days with Jaime. As much as she enjoys their weekends curled up watching bad movies, she is anxious for spring. Ready for long hikes which make her legs ache, ready to not feel the icy chill every time she opens the door to take her lab mix, Honor, outside, ready perhaps to find someone to spend her weekends with other than Jaime.





	call me friend (but keep me closer)

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to lewispanda for her amazing beta skills! 
> 
> Prompt: Day 5 - winter/cold/snowed in
> 
> Since I don't explicitly mention this in the piece, I wanted to advocate for it: practice safe sex, kids!

It is late March, nearly April, and Brienne is spending the last of the Northern winter days with Jaime. As much as she enjoys their weekends curled up watching bad movies, she is anxious for spring. Ready for long hikes which make her legs ache, ready to not feel the icy chill every time she opens the door to take her lab mix, Honor, outside, ready perhaps to find someone to spend her weekends with other than Jaime. A new staff member, Hyle, has been flirting with her incessantly, and both Sansa and Margaery have been telling her to give him a chance.

April is also Jaime’s birthday, and this weekend he is on a mission to convince her to take a trip to celebrate. He talks of Braavos, Volantis, or perhaps somewhere closer to home. Dorne, maybe. Brienne thinks of how far she has to go on her car loan, her student loans, and as much as she would like to be on a beach somewhere, she knows she can’t afford a long weekend away. She has never told Jaime how she struggled to pay for school. Her family never knew the kind of wealth his had. She worked hard for everything she was given and no one had paid her way.

Blame it on her feeling cooped up waiting for the end of winter, but Jaime nags her so much about the trip that weekend, she finally snaps. “Some of us can’t run off to Braavos on a moment’s notice, Jaime!” He looks up at her as if she’s kicked his puppy, which is funny, because her puppy has settled her head in Jaime’s lap for the past hour, content to get lazy ear scratches as they wrapped up their last movie viewing. 

Brienne is never really sure how to describe her friendship with Jaime. They’d known each other as children. Both their fathers were diplomats and they each grew up being held captive at boring state dinners. Brienne itching to get out of her dress, Jaime itching to be anywhere but there. They somehow always found each other. Giggling, they would sneak out of the dinners, exploring whatever fancy hall they were visiting. They would pretend to be the lords and ladies who had lived there long before, until one of their mothers came to fetch them, promising dessert.

When her mother died, her father stopped traveling so much, and there were no more state dinners, no more tagging along with Jaime Lannister.

So it surprised her when, during her first graduate lecture at Red Keep University, Jaime Lannister walked into the classroom late. He shot the teacher a sheepish grin and bounded up the steps, his gaze meeting Brienne’s. “Tarth,” he grinned, winking at her. “Fancy seeing you here.”

She can’t say she’d ever truly forgotten about their childhood friendship, but her life on Tarth was so different than his in Casterly Rock, mostly because her family was never featured in the Westerosi tabloids.

In grad school, they became an unlikely pair once again, bound by an interest in medieval history, a passion quite possibly ignited because of all those historic halls they had played in as children. They were both teaching assistants for the large undergraduate history courses, Westeros Civ and Modern History, so they spent hours together in the TA offices needling each other while they graded tests or papers. 

As much as he annoyed her sometimes, she knew Jaime to be a good person. When her dad had heart surgery, Jaime escorted her back to Tarth and sat with her in the hospital. During grad school, Jaime lived with his brother Tyrion in the fanciest bachelor pad she’d ever seen, but neither of them stood on ceremony. She was welcome anytime, whether it was for a desperate last minute study session, a meal, or a place to crash.

He was a great teacher. Once you got him talking on a subject he was passionate about, his intelligence would shine through. He was charming and funny. The kids loved him. But he chafed against the hierarchy of the university system. He wasn’t disciplined enough to do research, write papers, or attend conferences. He could barely sit through a faculty meeting. He was always bouncing his leg under the table or twisting around in his seat until she glared at him.

While Brienne got an assistant professorship at the University of Winterfell, Jaime struggled to find work. He took a few adjunct jobs but when none of the schools wanted to hire him full-time, he quit.

Brienne found out through social media. She’d been coaching Jaime through job applications and giving him pep talks when he got down on himself, and she was hurt he left without telling her. When she left a comment on a picture of a street market in Braavos, he sent her a brief email apologizing, but after that she barely heard from him. Brienne thought he’d decided to stay in Essos. Perhaps he had met someone and fallen in love. 

But one day, he showed up on her doorstep. He’d gotten a job at King’s Landing Community College. More focus on teaching. It was a good two to three hour drive south of her, but Jaime was intent on rekindling their friendship.

He was always calling or texting with suggestions of how they could spend their weekends. Brienne was still new to the north and had not made many friends, so every few weekends, she would drive south to visit the capitol. There was more to do there, but she always felt a little guilty about it, because Jaime, who was a bit of a gourmand, would take them out to the highly rated restaurants, and put it on his gold credit card. Sometimes they would go out dancing, Jaime able to skip the line by dropping his last name, and her drinks would always end up on his tab. Just as often, however, Jaime claimed he needed a break from the city and would drive north to see her.

Secretly, those weekends were her favorite. In the summertime, they would go on long hikes accompanied by Honor. They would pack a picnic and explore, spending nearly the whole day outdoors. In the winter, they preferred to hole up with a cache of bad movies and spend their weekends ensconced on her couch. Jaime would make his famous chili and Brienne would supply endless cups of cocoa or tea, sometimes whiskey. 

Sansa and Margaery, new friends and co-workers, knew not to bother her if it was a Jaime weekend. One time, drunkenly, Sansa let it slip that Marg thought Jaime was her fuck buddy. Even drunk, it hurt to hear it put so crudely. Margaery didn’t think Jaime might want her as a girlfriend or even a lover. No, simply a fuck buddy.

“Right,” Jaime says now, standing after her outburst. Honor looks disappointed she’s lost her companion. “You could have told me earlier you didn’t want to go. I’ve only been planning it for weeks.” When he gets hurt, he turns sullen. He’s fond of pouting until he gets his way. It drives Brienne insane, but she finds herself nearly always giving in. Today is no different. Jaime is nearly halfway out the door, making sure his duffel bag has all his clothes, searching her living room for his car keys. He pats his pockets again, like they might have secretly sprung there from wherever they are hiding.

She sighs. She feels awful. Jaime hasn’t had many friends since his brother moved back west. Everyone he knows is on the other side of the country. “It’s not that I don’t want to go. Of course I want to celebrate your birthday, but I can’t really afford a big trip right now.” Jaime doesn’t stop his search for his keys. “Jaime. Did you hear me?”

He turns from her kitchen counter, a postcard in his hand. “What is this?”

Damn it. She snatches it out of his hand. “It’s none of your business.” The scene on the front is the city of Braavos. Scrawled on the back in Hyle’s hand, _ Wish you were here. Xo, H. _

“It seems like whoever this is would be willing to take you to Braavos. Would you go with him? Or her?” There is a brittle edge to his tone.

Brienne cringes internally. She should have thrown the postcard away. “It doesn’t mean anything, Jaime. He’s just a friend.”

“So it _ is _ a he.”

“It’s nothing. It’s a stupid post card he sent during spring break.” A spring break where she spent half her time catching up on grading, half with Jaime in King’s Landing.

“Yes, because I sign off on all my vacation correspondence with a hug and a kiss,” he replies bitterly, practically throwing the postcard back onto the counter.

He can be moody, but she’s never known him to act this way. The edge in his voice is disappointment at best, jealousy at worst. “Why are you being like this?”

“Because I thought we were friends, Bri. Friends tell each other stuff like this. You never said-”

“I’m not seeing him.” She interrupts, trying to hammer home the point. Taking a breath, she starts again. “We work together. He flirts, but it’s not-” 

“Not what? You’re not interested?” It annoys her that Jaime is pushing this, but she tries not to bite back.

“I don’t know if I am. Yet.” It’s a relief to admit it. She’s been feeling the pressure from Sansa and Margaery, but she thought the postcard a little forward and she simply isn’t _ sure _ about Hyle yet.

“Okay.” Jaime says, nodding. He looks a little sad.

“We should go somewhere for your birthday, though. Dorne would be nice.”

“Yeah, maybe. We can talk about it. I think I’m still gonna-” He gestures towards the door.

“Yeah, okay.” Brienne wants to apologize for not telling him sooner, but she also doesn’t want to mention Hyle’s name ever again in front of Jaime, if she can help it. There’s a funny twisted feeling in her stomach and she has to remind herself to breathe.

Jaime puts on his coat. It’s not his ski jacket, she notices, but his long wool peacoat, the one he usually wears in the city, but hardly ever brings north. He wraps a scarf carelessly around his neck, not even knotting it. His duffel sits on her kitchen island and when he picks it up, his keys are underneath. “Of course,” he murmurs lowly, shaking his head. Usually they hug or Brienne walks him out to his car, but today he turns to look at her before he opens the door. “So, I’ll see you.”

“Be safe driving,” she replies, giving him a nod. She forces herself to smile, hoping it looks more natural than it feels.

Jaime opens the front door and starts laughing. “Oh, shit.” 

“What?” Brienne, who has already taken steps back towards the kitchen, comes to his side. “Oh gods.” Big thick fluffy snowflakes are falling rapidly from the gray sky. There is already nearly a foot of freshly fallen snow on the sidewalks and coating the cars in the parking lot. It’s not unusual in the north, but it’s certainly unusual for this late in the year. “When I started they did tease me about April snowstorms. I guess this is what they meant.”

“It’s not too bad yet, and I have four wheel drive.”

“The visibility will be terrible, though. It will take you twice as long to get back.”

He turns to look at her, eyebrows raised. “It sounds like you’re suggesting I stay, Tarth.”

She shrugs, indicating that of course she doesn’t mind him staying, but it’s his choice. “You’ll have to steal the couch back from Honor, but it’s all yours.”

“Good, because there’s one thing I forgot to do.” He drops his duffel back into her entryway.

“What’s that?” she asks, looking from his bag to him, her forehead creased in confusion.

“This.” He takes a step closer to her, then another, until he’s nearly pressed up against her, and his hand comes up to cup her cheek. What is even happening, this is a joke, she manages to think, before his lips are on hers. If this is a joke, it’s the cruelest one anyone has ever played on her, because gods, he knows how to kiss, and it’s been entirely too long since she kissed someone and her arm fits around his shoulders just fine, her fingers curling in his hair at the nape of his neck. Jaime makes a noise against her mouth and she’s afraid she’s done something wrong, so she pulls away--not that she wants to--and asks, “What?”

“Nothing. You’re just…” His face is flushed and his green eyes are electric. “Perfectly you.” 

She can feel her own cheeks burning then and his gaze is too hot on hers, so she glances down at the floor, before his hand lands at her hip and he tugs her back to him. “I meant that as a compliment. Come here.” He kisses her again, this time more fiercely than before, but his lips are not content there. He places a soft chaste kiss to her cheek before his mouth is burning a path down her neck, his scruff against her skin making her wrap her arms more tightly around him. She laughs suddenly, because she cannot believe she’s kissing Jaime. He draws back then, looking at her with bewilderment and concern. “Hmm?”

“Your beard is ticklish, that’s all,” she lies. “But Jaime?”

“Yes?”

_ How is this going to work_, she wants to ask. What happens if this goes badly? I’ll lose my best friend. “You’re my best friend,” she says, voice nearly a whisper.

He nods, understanding. He reaches up to tuck a lock of her hair behind her ear and presses up on his tiptoes so to drop a kiss on her forehead. “You’re my best friend, too.” He takes both her hands in his, leading her into the living room, where he shoos Honor off the couch and they sit down, so close she can feel the warmth from his leg. She knows they need to talk about this, but a pricking heat fills her stomach. She wants him. Needs to feel the weight of him on top of her, the heat from him flush against her skin. _ I’m a mess_. All because of a stupid kiss. Two stupid kisses, but who is counting. “But I think it’s worth the risk. To try,” he says.

Her breath catches in her throat. Jaime Lannister, who spits out ideas as he thinks of them, has considered this. Considered _ her_. “You’ve thought about this.” She hadn’t meant to say it, not really, because part of it feels too soon. Too much, too serious, too fast.

He gives her a sheepish, bashful smile, one she’s rarely seen. “Yeah, I guess I have.”

She is glad he doesn’t ask if she’s thought about them. When they were in school, he annoyed her for so long and then he and Tyrion felt more like family than anything else. Except for the time she accidentally saw Jaime with his shirt off and her jaw nearly dropped. Then she thought about it _ too _ much for the rest of that week. 

It was only since they started spending their weekends together had she let herself think of him in that way. Even then, it was always a fleeting wish. Having him in her home for whole weekends always made her apartment feel lonely after he’d gone. She’d written it off as simply wanting companionship or a relationship, but never specifically a relationship with _ him_.

“I guess I thought, with all the time we spend together, you might feel the same way.”

“I’m sorry-”

He cuts her off. “No, it’s not your fault._ I’m _ sorry. I could never find the courage to say anything.” His thumb rubs along the knuckles of her left hand. “But I knew I was never going to find anyone better than you. So I stopped looking.”

There are tears in the corners of her eyes and she doesn’t know what to say. None of it feels real. Jaime is still stroking her knuckles softly, waiting expectantly for her to speak. “I-”

“Is it too much?” When she looks up at him, there’s fear dawning across his face. His eyes a little panicked, his mouth falling slack. “It’s too much. I don’t want to scare you.”

She shakes her head. “Jaime, stop. You’re-” _ I never expected anyone to say something like that to me. _ “You’re perfect.” Aware she’s basically repeated what he told her a few minutes earlier, she chooses to distract herself by tracing his jawline. He is perfect, she realizes. His jawline makes him look like he should be carved in marble and displayed to the masses for centuries to come. His blond hair has darkened over the years and he’s starting to a little gray at the temples, but he’s still beautiful, charming Jaime. She has seen many women flirt with him and no doubt he has students falling over his feet every semester. And yet, he chose her.

Her fingers skimming along his jaw, she tilts his chin up slightly, so she can kiss him gently. Jaime responds in kind, kissing her softly. Brienne leans into him again, opening her mouth more, and Jaime echoes her movements, except he loops an arm around her waist, his hand splayed across her lower back, holding her close. His other hand threads through her hair. She usually keeps it short, simply because it’s low maintenance, but it’s grown out over the winter, and now it just barely brushes the tops of her shoulders. His gentle fingers push it back from her face as his kisses make her sigh happily against his mouth. He chuckles and continues to play with her hair. There is a giddy weightlessness in her chest at the thought of an unconsidered idea which she finds fits her perfectly. Jaime.

The next moment there is a reckless, seizing fear. They can’t do this. What if they end up hating each other? What if they end up sleeping together and he thinks she’s bad in bed? Oh gods, he’s going to see her naked. They can’t do this. But then Jaime sucks on her bottom lip a little, making her forget why this is a bad idea, and she allows her senses to blur.

They stay on the couch for a long time, kissing like a pair of teenagers, both wanting more but wanting to hold onto this moment before going any further. She gives in sometime around when his mouth is settled against her neck, most likely leaving a mark she will have to hide under a turtleneck the next day. “Jaime,” she insists, grasping his hair.

He tilts his head back so he can look at her, but she’s already throwing her leg over his and sliding into his lap. “Gods,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a rasp. His adam’s apple bobs in his throat as she cants her hips forward, feeling how hard he is, even through his jeans and the peacoat he’s inexplicably still wearing. She places her hands on his chest and leans in to capture his lips with hers, hoping if she can’t tell him in words, she can _ show _ him.

His fingers edge along the waistband of her leggings and she can feel him fumble at the hem of her sweater. She edges back, away from him, suddenly all too self-aware of her large frame. “Brienne.” He says her name so softly it nearly makes her come undone. He hardly ever calls her by her given name, preferring the casual “Tarth” or the familiar “Bri”. “We don’t have to.”

“I--” She twists her hands in her lap, frustrated with herself. This is Jaime. He is the only one who has never said a word about her looks. “I want to,” Brienne admits finally, softly, almost to herself. “But can we maybe move? I don’t want to squish you.”

“You’re not,” he tells her, his hands resting on her thighs. “In fact, I’ve never been more comfortable in my life.” Jaime’s face draws up into a smirk and she swats at his shoulder. The teasing is comfortable, at least. It puts her at ease.

She stands, reaching for him. “C’mon.”

A weird look crosses his face. “I might need a minute.”

Her cheeks flush, suddenly understanding, and she leans forward to kiss him. “I’m sorry,” she mumbles against his mouth. 

“Don’t apologize,” he replies, catching her lower lip between his teeth. 

Brienne spends the next couple minutes fretting in her room. First about whether she should pull her comforter back, but then is afraid it makes her look too eager. She thinks about changing, but by then she looks up and Jaime is already standing in her bedroom doorway. He’s finally taken off his coat and he’s rolled up the sleeves of his sweater, so she can see his tanned forearms. She has no idea how he stays so impossibly tan in the winter, but she barely has time to think about it, because then he’s standing in between her legs and pushing her back onto the mattress. His weight on top of her makes her sigh against his cheek and even though they’re both still clothed, she hooks her legs over his, and he lets out a gasp against her neck. An anticipation begins to grow in the pit of her stomach. It’s been an embarrassingly long time since she’s done this, but everything feels right. Every touch ignites her.

He pulls back to look at her, his eyes bright but wanting, his features clouded by an expression she’s never seen before, but which makes something catch in her chest. Then he’s kissing her again, sweet and slow like the first time, except now he rocks his hips into hers, grinding against her.

After that, they are both frantic, scrambling to get each other out of their clothes, kissing and laughing. She doesn’t even have a second to think about anything, because his skin against hers, the warmth of him feels so good. Brienne runs her hand down his bare back, reveling in how he jumps against her touch. His mouth traces its way down her body, pausing at her breasts to tease her with his tongue and teeth. She grips the hair at the back of his head, letting out a soft moan, and he lifts his head, derailing the path he started so he can kiss her again. It’s a hurried, messy kiss, and Brienne laughs against his mouth. He nips at her ear, her neck, and as he shifts himself even further down her body, she forgets to breathe.

As soon as his tongue touches her, her hips buck, and he wraps an arm around her thigh to hold her steady. “Oh fuck,” she murmurs, lost to the pleasure of his mouth on her. Her fingers and toes tingle, her whole body alight under his touch. She feels as if she might ignite and float away on the sensation all at once. The only thing she can do is thread her hands through his hair as he buries himself deeper in her cunt. Brienne thinks she might shatter, break into a million pieces right here before him. She lets out a low cry, a string of unintelligible babble falling from her lips as she curls towards him. Her fingers grip his hair, his shoulders, anything she can hold onto as she rides out the waves of her orgasm. His arm is still wrapped around her leg and when she is finished, he kisses the inside of her thighs ever so gently, before moving to lie beside her. “You’re entirely too good at that,” she tells him, heart pounding, still breathless.

“Am I?” he quirks his eyebrows up, but before she can answer, he buries his face in the crook between her neck and shoulder, alternatively kissing and nipping at the long, pale line of her neck. Brienne’s fingers and toes are still tingling with the sensation of his mouth between her thighs, but she reaches up to tug at the hair at the back of his neck. She pulls him into a vicious kiss, the blunt edge of her teeth on his bottom lip making Jaime groan against her. “Gods, I want you.” His breath is hot against her ear and she twists towards him. Jaime grips her hip and she wraps a leg around his, before he shifts them, and suddenly she is on top.

Brienne can feel him beneath her, no barriers between them now. She expects to feel the same worries, the same self-consciousness she felt on the couch, but there is none of it. Jaime is only looking at her with hunger in his eyes, but also with softness. Shifting back slightly, she takes his cock in her hand. Jaime’s eyes grow wide before he tilts his head back, letting out a strangled cry. He reaches for her, a hand on her shoulder, tangling in her hair, palming at her hip as she moves her hand slowly, then faster up and down his shaft. “Fuck.”

She draws him nearly to the edge, but he stops her, saying he needs her, he wants her, and a thrill goes up her spine. Brienne lowers herself down onto him carefully, both of them crying out. Her body curves towards him and his hands skim along her sides, holding her up. When she moves her hips against him, he lets out a guttural, low moan and reaches for her, cupping her chin and kissing her. “You feel amazing,” he murmurs, his lips skating over her skin. They take their time at first, their pace quickening slowly, and Brienne watches as Jaime’s pupils grow wider. She is half bent over him when he tells her he’s coming, and he starts to thrust faster, his hand grabbing her ass. He presses his other hand to her clit and she clutches his shoulders, her name tumbling from his lips. He makes slow strokes as he finishes and Brienne dots kisses along his jawline.

“Bri,” he whispers and she cannot help but smile. She slips down off of him and tucks herself along his body. He runs a gentle hand through her hair and presses a kiss to her forehead. They lie together for a long time, letting their heartbeats and breathing slow. Jaime continues to stroke her hair and it’s _ nice _ . Not awkward. At least, not until he speaks up. “You’re quiet.”

“And you’ve never been quiet in your life,” Brienne teases.

He chuckles, but doesn’t look entirely convinced. “Are you okay?”

“I’m happy. Happy and quiet, so shhhh.” She places a hand on his chest, over his heart, and Jaime twines her fingers with his own.

“Happy, huh?”

“Ohmygod.” Her eyes fly open to tell him to shut the hell up already and let her enjoy the moment, but his green eyes twinkle in the dim light of her bedroom, and she realizes he’s teasing. “Is this what it’s going to be like from now on?”

“You mean blissed out in bed while I give you a hard time? Hell yeah.” He wears a sly, knowing smile and she has to laugh, because he’s so proud of himself.

“You think the snow has stopped?” she asks, changing the subject entirely.

“Hmm, I don’t know.” He murmurs, his low voice echoing in his chest. “I can check.”

“Don’t you dare move.” She grabs his shoulder and he laughs, burying his nose in her hair.

He rubs a hand up and down her arm and she sighs contentedly. “You know what we should do?”

“What’s that?”

“Build a snowman.” She raises her eyebrows at him incredulously. “Come on, Tarth,” he teases her. “Don’t you have any fun?”

“With you,” she says with a simple smile, which makes him wrestle her back against the pillows so he can kiss her again.

“Come on, come on.” He encourages, patting her leg through the sheets. Jaime’s already out of bed, butt naked in front of her window, as he pulls on whatever clothes he can find. A loud laugh bursts from her chest and he looks around at her, surprised. “What?”

“You’re wearing my sweater.” He looks down at himself and shrugs.

“Get used to it.”

“That’s not fair!” she exclaims. “I can’t wear your clothes.”

“Guess you’ll just go naked then.” He smirks and acts resigned, as if it is some sort of sacrifice, before he scoots his butt back on the bed so he can kiss her again, even as she tries to swat him with a pillow that he blocks with his left hand. He slips her sweater over his head and hands it back to her. “Here. The blue stripes go better with your eyes than mine.”

She wants to ask when he got so sweet, but she doesn’t, only lets her hand linger on his as she takes it and then turns her back to him as she tugs the sweater over her head. Brienne digs through her drawers for a particular pair of leggings, the kind which are supposed to help keep the heat in. She usually only wears them on bitterly cold days, not when your best friend? Psuedo new boyfriend? Not when _ Jaime _is pulling you outside to make snowmen at midnight.

As he hurries outside, Honor shuffling along behind him, Brienne pauses by the kitchen island. She picks up the postcard and rips it in half, tossing it in the trash. “Tarth!” Jaime demands from the doorway. “Get your cute ass out here.”

She laughs, shaking her head at him and rolling her eyes, but when she reaches him, he slings an arm around her waist and presses a kiss to her temple as they step outside into the cold. The world always feels quieter after it snows. “Do you think we can make a knight snowman?”

“Snow _ woman_,” she insists.

Jaime grins at her, a smile so broad she thinks his face might crack in two, and wraps his arms around her, drawing her close. “Whatever you want.” 


End file.
